


A Chocolate Christmas

by eliza_doolittlethings



Series: Falling In Love [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Greg loves chocolate cake, M/M, Mycroft makes chocolate cake, Rekindled Relationship, Sex and Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22536484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliza_doolittlethings/pseuds/eliza_doolittlethings
Summary: Turning his head to that pale neck just above the open collar, Greg breathed in the faint scent of sweat mingled with a familiar scent and smiling he recalled Mycroft’s defensive explanation“What is it?” Mycroft asked softly, moving his hands to turn Greg fully onto his chest, hands still holding his, locking him in place.“You smell of chocolate,” Greg whispered, nuzzling the long neck and breathing deep.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Falling In Love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1208127
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27
Collections: Mystrade Holiday 2019





	A Chocolate Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> [Note: This is part of ‘falling in love’ series. So Molly is pregnant. It is post mystrade, after their breakup. Hopefully it will make sense. The chocolate scene from ‘series of unfortunate events’ will keep appearing as flashbacks. Hope to write it without causing confusion!]

##### Scene 1

Mycroft sank into his chair the only light the glow from the fireplace in his private study in the Diogenes.

Shifting to make himself comfortable he turned and cocked his head to look at the glass of whiskey on the side table.

Left hand raised his fingers widened in an attempt to enclose it and he bit his lip.

The forefinger touched the rim delicately as he closed his eyes thoughtfully.

##### Scene 2

Lestrade stomped to his car shutting the door with a bang after dumping himself on the seat. Licking his lips with fury he grabbed the steering wheel and hit it, mentally cursing his thoughtlessness.

Taking a deep breath he started the car and took off without a glance at the road, tires screeching and people yelling in his wake.

##### Scene 3 

Sherlock sat poised in his chair the fire’s glow radiating from his calm face, fairy lights decorating the living room .

John and Molly were putting them up for Christmas.

##### Scene 4

Mrs Hudson called out on hearing the doorbell, “It must be for you Sherlock.”

The bell rang again, this time without letting up.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Oh my hip!”

Pulling open the door she exclaimed, “Oh it's you Inspector! Come in come in. They’re all waiting for you. Alone? Go on up. One more batch of cookies.”

“Thank you Mrs Hudson. Need any help?” Lestrade smiled briefly while removing his scarf and gloves.

“No no, you go on I just need to take out the last batch of gingerbread men. Need to rush. Or else Rosie will get upset,” she patted his arm and turned around in a huff.

##### Scene 5

Lestrade dragged his feet up the familiar steps ….

A family aura hung around the once bachelor pad. Dysfunctional maybe, nonetheless, still family!

“Drink?” John held out a glass to the inspector who was standing with gloves and scarf in one hand, the other deep in his trouser pocket.

Chewing his lower lip he nodded a greeting and took the glass.

“He is not coming is he?” Sherlock sagely observed from his chair, eyes glittering, hands resting on either arm rests, legs crossed at the knees.

Lestrade narrowed his eyes at the suited figure and simply replied “mm”.

##### Scene 6

######  _{3hrs later - outside 221b}_

‘For he’s a jolly good fellowwww ..’

The cacophony from the apartment above made the passers by along Baker street look up in wonder and smile as they moved on.

######  _{inside 221 b}_

The singing continued as John, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade stood around a seated Sherlock with Rosie asleep on his lap.

##### Scene 7

“Don’t worry I'll get a cab,” Lestrade shooed Molly away and walked in the opposite direction. Molly stood watching him for a few ticks then went her way, clutching her coat tight as snow landed on her capped head and shoulders.

Lestrade walked unsteadily, his gait evident from the set of footprints in the snow

After walking a few blocks he swayed and rested his back on a lamp post, adjusted his gloves, sniffed and pushed forward.

A black car came to a halt by his side, the window rolled down and a voice spoke, “Get in.”

Lestrade balanced himself as he tried to turn his body around and look into the car but felt himself tilt. Raising his hand to grab the lamp post that he’d just moved away from, his fingers grabbing the air futilely; and then he felt a woollen coat and silk tie. Clutching it with all his might the DI passed out.

##### Scene 8

######  _{Mycroft’s apartment}_

“We have to stop meeting like this. People will talk.” Lestrade murmured as his fingers clasped the cup of hot chocolate.

Listening for a response he looked up from his naked feet that were soaking in hot water in a tub.

Mycroft was standing by the antique wooden table in the middle of the big kitchen, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and waistcoat unbuttoned sans tie, chopping chocolate slabs.

  
  


##### Scene 9

######  _{flash back}_

“Mycroft!” Greg called out, rummaging through socks - rolled up in pairs, ties - silk, folded neatly, pocket squares - satin, dark colours...

Long fingers stilled his restless hands. “What are you searching for?” Mycroft murmured, his breath tickling Greg’s ear.

Taking a deep breath the Inspector leaned sideways and resting his head on broad shoulders spoke falteringly, “My tie pin.” Pausing he let out another breath and continued, “Yours,” he whispered, “The one you gave me...” voice trembling slightly.

Mycroft was gently rubbing his thumb over Greg’s wrist listening to the rapid breathing slow down. Then, gently he moved his left hand around the Inspector reaching for a drawer next to the mirror, murmuring, “It is kept in here.” The government official’s fingers held the umbrella shaped silver tie pin between his thumb and index finger, the middle finger moving along it sensuously.

Chuckling, Greg closed his fingers around Mycroft’s, enjoying the embrace, right hand still in the chest of drawers, licking his lips as his mind centred on the soft rubbing on his wrist.

Turning his head to that pale neck just above the open collar, Greg breathed in the faint scent of sweat mingled with a familiar scent and smiling he recalled Mycroft’s defensive explanation

“What is it?” Mycroft asked softly, moving his hands to turn Greg fully onto his chest, hands still holding his, locking him in place.

“You smell of chocolate,” Greg whispered, nuzzling the long neck and breathing deep.

  
  


“And you smell of wine,” Mycroft smiled as he lowered his nose to Greg’s cheek and eyes closed, remembered the soap he’d gifted the Inspector.

“What?!” Greg tried to move out of the embrace but was locked tight his arms held crossed across his belly.

“Shh, it’s the soap. The smell reminds me of wine,” Mycroft rubbed his nose along Greg’s outer ear as he whispered.

Sighing Greg asked, “Thought you said it’s Acacia and something,” his voice fading as he gave in to the ministrations, muscles relaxing, mind vacant.

“Hm, Tuberose,” Mycroft added as his thoughts centred around the leg that Greg had moved to between his thighs aligning their bodies perfectly.

Greg sniffed his way up the neck to lips that had a faint glow. Slipping out his tongue he tasted them slowly, then moved his head back and stared.

“Gregory, you will be late,” Mycroft whispered reluctantly.

  
  


######  _{present day}_

“You still have that tie pin?” Greg asked, wiggling his toes in the now cooling water, closing his eyes as one memory led to the next.

“Hm?” Mycroft faintly responded, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“You know, the umbrella one I’d gifted you,” Greg wondered, as his mind raced back to that night Mycroft had gone on his knees for the first time and then packed him off to the retirement buffet for his boss.

Mycroft had never showed interest in public appearances. The ones he’d gone to were obligatory ones or with a political agenda, never for pleasure or for pleasing anyone. So Greg never dared ask him out during those years they’d been together.

##### Scene 10

######  _{221 B}_

“We should’ve called him a cab,” John worried as he looked out the window, the deserted street below covered knee high in snow.

“Lestrade has his own angels to protect him,” Sherlock spoke quietly, watching the sleeping Rosie curled on his chest, his right hand gently fondling the hair over her brow.

John turned, looked at the Detective and spoke, “I should take her to bed.”

“Hm, I suppose so,” Sherlock smiled mildly looking up at the Doctor and said, “Merry Christmas John.”

######  _{Mycroft’s place}_

“It is in the same drawer next to the mirror. I replaced it that day, from the floor where you’d dropped it.” Mycroft stirred the chocolate melting in the double boiler and then added calmly with a smile, “After you rushed off forgetting to zip your pants.”

Greg pouted at the thought and decided to change topics. “What are you making?”

Raising his eyebrows the Ice Man shifted his posture to glance at the Inspector while deftly continuing the stirring, saying, “Your favourite.”

######  _{flash back}_

Dumping his coat on the table next to the front door Greg pulled a face as he struggled with the tie knot. Frustrated he called out, “I’m home!” Huffing, he gave up on the tie, toed off his laced shoes after a few tries and started undoing the belt.

Stilling his hand, a wicked smile dawned on his face.

Tip toeing to the study in his socks, Greg pushed the half open door slowly and watched the informally attired Ice Man pouring over a stack of papers, some on his lap, a stack on the table before him, a few on the floor close to the hearth.

With a swagger he moved forward with deliberation, “Looks like someone needs a break. Time to return the favour.”

Pausing, Greg looked lost for a second. Smelling the air he asked, “You made a chocolate cake?”

Grinning widely, he turned around hands dipped into his trouser pockets and headed to the kitchen.

  
  
  


##### Scene 11

######  _{present day - Mycroft’s Apartment kitchen}_

Greg stared at the back of that head bent over the stove, shoulders partially hunched, white sleeves bunched at the elbows, a crease where the sleeve garters must have been worn all day long. His eyes slowly moved along to the forearm, where the freckles could be seen distinctly. He sighed softly and closed his eyes.

######  _{flash back - Mycroft’s Apartment kitchen}_

“It’s hot.” 

The remonstrance fell on deaf ears as Greg took a knife and fork from the cutlery stand and started carving, tongue rolling along his lower lip in accordance with his hands as he carefully cut out a large portion. Smiling on seeing a plate being placed next to the cake stand he lost concentration and the piece wobbled from the knife.

Quick thinking from Mycroft saved it as the slice landed neatly on the decorated porcelain plate, the chocolate and liquor oozing from the centre.

“Sherlock was right,” Greg heard Mycroft mutter.

Turning around in a huff he saw the Ice Man’s disapproving smile and snogged him hard.

######  _{present day}_

“It’s not the same as last time,” Mycroft commented as he busied himself with the batter.

Greg grimaced as he placed the cup on the floor and then carefully raised one leg and wiped it with a towel that was on the arm rest. tucking the wiped leg under his thigh he proceeded with the other one.

Mycroft was there by the time he’d finished, whisking away the tub and towel.

Mouth closed firmly, lower lip tucked under his teeth Greg watched the Ice Man return his concentration to the work bench very professionally.

######  _{flash back}_

As the kiss deepened, with Mycroft responding enthusiastically, Greg took control. Left hand that was resting on the kitchen slab groped for the plate as Greg devotedly explored Mycroft’s mouth.

Scooping out a piece of the still warm cake, he raised it between them, moved back to look at those red lips that were thoroughly kissed. Raising an eyebrow he grinned, glancing at his hand.

Mycroft, who’d closed his eyes, lost in the thoroughness of Greg’s assault, pouted at the intermission. Looking at Greg and the cake his brow wrinkled as he bit the corner of his lip doubtfully.

Opening his mouth to protest, the DI took advantage and shoved the piece swiftly following it with his tongue. while pulling him into a tight embrace.

Mycroft moaned as Greg delved deep and left no crumbs searching every corner meticulously.

##### Scene 12

_{present day}_

“Molly asked after you,” Greg spoke conversationally, nervously searching his blank mind for topics.

“Hm,” Mycroft supplied as he poured the batter into coffee mugs, arranged them in a try filled with water and placed it in the pre-heated oven.

“Rosie’s grown quite big,” Greg continued, feeling ridiculous, as he fiddled with his trouser leg hem, legs still crossed on the sofa.

“Yes, she has,” Mycroft looked at Greg with a half heartedly smile that vanished the moment he turned back to the work bench busying himself with cleaning the counter.

“Um, it’s getting late. I should probably leave soon,” Greg noted rather tonelessly as he put down his feet and looked around for his shoes and socks.

Mycroft’s hands stilled on the counter, his fingers digging into the cloth in slow motion, pale skin glowing red from the pressure. Taking a slow and deliberate breath he licked his lips, straightened his shoulders and spoke fast while walking out of the kitchen, “I shall call a cab.”

######  _{flash back}_

Mycroft was on his back on the floor, a kitchen towel bunched against the cupboard door to protect his head. Shirt buttons open, trousers pushed to his ankles, legs splayed, his face, neck, chest, belly smeared with remnants of chocolate cake, the tray empty next to his hips on the floor; his hands on Greg’s shoulders, eyes closed, mouth open, head bent back, chest thrust up, hips moving in rhythm with Greg head bobbing up and down …

######  _{present day - Mycroft's study}_

Mycroft looked up, aroused from the reverie, re-living one of the most sensuous moments of his life when Greg appeared by the study door calling out his name. Rolling his jaw from side to side, phone still in hand, after he had made the call for a cab, he observed the DI with ice cold blue eyes.

“I didn’t mean immediately. I’ll stay for cake if you don’t mind,” Greg bit his lower lip as he stood nervously wiggling his toes over the woollen carpet, hands stuffed deep in his trouser pockets, shoulders hunched.

The Ice Man gave a brief nod before placing the phone on the table.

######  _{flash back}_

Huddled on the floor, Greg running his strong forefinger among the golden hairline that rose from below that soft belly, he chuckled and exclaimed, “Oh, need to do this properly.”

Leaving the comfort of Mycroft’s embrace, he shifted to move half way over the chocolate smeared government official. Steadying himself by planting both hands on either side of Mycroft’s shoulders, Greg popped his tongue out moving it side to side and as if seeking out pudding crumbs. Eyes roving from those lips and jaw to the neck, he suddenly dove to the shoulder and sucked hard at the junction, lips glued to the freckled skin and moved along the neck to the chin.

Sighing softly Mycroft asked, “What are you doing?”, a hint of a smile in those words, as his hands gathered the DI by the shoulder vainly attempting to make him desist.

Eyes dark as chocolate pools looked up staring into ones that looked like a sunny sky’s pale blue and murmured, “Thought I’d missed a spot or two. Couldn’t have that now, can we?”

Looking down at the red glow on that pale neck where he’d sucked, Greg rolled his tongue over his lower lip, bit the corner and smiled while saying, “It was a freckle,” with a wink. Then added, “You’re not ticklish are you?”

  
  
  
  


######  _{present day}_

Mycroft picked at his cake with the fork, never once tasting it.

“Can I have one more?” Greg asked as he rose from the stool next to the kitchen counter.

“Hm, yes,” Mycroft gave a tired smile raising his eyebrows in surprise and rose.

“I’ll get it,” Greg touched Mycroft’s forearm as he spoke.

Looking at those fingers gently clasping his arm Mycroft closed his eyes and took a deep breath before saying, “Gregory...” softly, a silent plea.

“I won’t. I promised, remember?” Greg quickly responded, watching the Ice Man bare his soul, one of the rare occasions.

“But I don’t want you to keep it,” Mycroft whispered back, as he opened his eyes that had gone dark like the clouded sky before rain.

Licking his lips Greg moved his thumb slowly over those soft hairs as he closed his eyes at the sensation and huskily asked, “Are you sure?”

Watching Greg intently, Mycroft pursed his lips, shook his head slowly from side to side while shrugging his shoulders but gently clasped the fingers that were giving him goosebumps.

######  _{present day - Mycroft’s bedroom}_

Greg was lying curled up next to Mycroft, both covered by a sheet from the waist down his left hand gently resting on Mycroft’s fading ponch. Resting his chin on his left arm, left leg over Mycroft’s. Pushing himself up on his elbow he let his eyes roam over that naked chest up the shoulders to a neck covered in freckles.

Mycroft lay motionless, breathing steady, as if asleep, with his hands folded under his head, the forelock gracing his wide forehead.

Splaying his hand in the centre of that hairy chest Greg rested his chin on it and smiling softly admired the view. A routine he had fallen into after every coupling from when they had gotten together.

Greg wondered at the word that had popped into his head. Would Mycroft approve of it? He smiled seeing the Ice Man slowly open one eye and observe him slyly.

A radiant grin blossoming on the Inspector’s face, he said jovially, “Hi sleeping beauty.”

Brow wrinkling, Mycroft looked at Greg puzzled who softly said, “Nothing. It’s only half past 3. Go back to sleep.”

Mycroft took a deep breath and closed the eye.

Greg simply continued looking at the still form till he fell asleep.


End file.
